


Kylo: Babysitter of Ren

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Babysitting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:10:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When normal arrangements fall through, who can look after a Force-sensitive child? Or who SHOULD? (Answer: probably shouldn't be Kylo Ren.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kylo: Babysitter of Ren

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stiletto Ren (Stiletto929)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stiletto929/gifts).



_It will only be for a few hours, max_ , he’d said. _I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency_ , he’d added. _The Supreme Leader would want you to do this task, it is vital and it is urgent_ , he’d insisted. _I’ll do whatever you want in bed tonight_ , hadn’t been spoken but had strongly been implied by the General’s eyebrow game. The General had a good eyebrow game. He had good _other_ game, too, but now was not the time to contemplate those things, delicious as the daydreams would be. He had - for some reason - to earn sexual favours now.

And earn them in the most ludicrous way possible.

There was absolutely no way in the galaxy that he was the person best placed to _mind_ this **hellbeast**. It was a task that should be given to someone with a shock baton and without functioning ears. Even if it _was_ Force-sensitive, it was _not_ therefore under his sphere of influence and experience. Even the loathsome Jedi had waited until their brats could formulate more than seven words (six of which were ‘no’) to start their indoctrination attempts. Knights of Ren did _not_ deal with… with… **infants**.

Even if they _were_ the offspring of powerful officials. Kylo didn’t care. He was only keeping the thing conscious because Hux had instructed him not to Force-lullaby the gnawing, drooling, snot-nosed little shit. 

Said creature sat in the high-chair, banging their grubby little fists on the tabletop. “What do you want?” Kylo asked.

“Cook-cook!”  


“Cook what?”  


“COOK. COOK.” The little madam’s nose turned up, and she stared at his mask with all the fierceness of a fully decorated General. “COOK. COOOOOOOK!”  


She wasn’t due to be fed, right? He’d had so many things to remember. This, not that. The other, not something else. Kylo had been so shocked at being handed a wiggling thing that tried to chew his mask that he had sort of… maybe… not listened closely enough. And now it was demanding he cook something, and possibly it would be in the travel bag?

Kylo put it on the counter top and started to rifle through things. There was a small, stripped-down holo, some things that were bright and noisy and filled with teeth-marks, some… things he would rather not think about but which clearly went on a small child’s rear… and some sachets of food and dried rusk-type circles. He pulled out one of the sachets. “This one?”

“COOK COOK.”  


“I don’t know if that means you want it warm or not! Can’t you just speak Basic, like everyone else?”  


That made the thing cry. It slammed fists down again, and little legs whirled uselessly through the air. 

“No! No! Stop crying… oh Maker… do you want me to cook-cook this?”  


More crying. Louder. 

“Will you please stop crying and tell me what it is you _want_?”  


“ **COOK COOK WANNA COOK COOK WANNA EATS COOK COOKS.** ”

“What are… wait… cookies?”  


And just like that, the storm passed. The small, sniffly face lit up and waved grabby hands through the air. Kylo didn’t know if it was wise to feed it anything with the remotest bit of sugar in, but if it stopped it crying then he would. He ripped open the package and held one out. It _vanished._ Or, more precisely, it went from a solid disc into an accretion disc around the child’s mouth. Dust particles caught in the air, and somehow the hands got grubbier still.

Kylo felt dirty, even through his robes. How could anyone eat like that?

“More! More cook cook!”  


“I think one is– okay, two.” Better to stave off the sudden, threatening storm of sobbing. Kylo shoved the second cookie at her, and then put the packet away. By the time he looked back, he was sure there’d been a murder. A cereal murder, but a murder all the same.  


“How do you cope with being that disgusting?”  


“DRAWS.”  


“…”  


“Wanna draws! P’ease?”   


This was at least more polite. Kylo decided a ‘please’ warranted some acknowledgement, so he looked back in the bag. “On this?” he asked, and held forth the chunky, robust tablet. 

“Yessssssssssssss.”  


“Let me clean you up, first…” He grabbed some of the wipe things from the bag and tried to run them over small fingers and palms and then the surface, and then another one over lips. That got him a bite, and he had to count to ten under his breath.  


“Almost done…”  


“Draws! Wanna draws you!” The fingers reached again, and Kylo handed over the tablet. Maybe he could get some p–  


“…stop rocking the chair. How are you even doing that?”  


“Silly,” the child insisted. And rocked it harder, from front legs to back and then around again once more. She was evidently using the Force, and Kylo reached out to hold the chair still with his own powers.   


That got her frustrated, so she threw things from their resting places, making a mess of the whole room. 

“Oh for the… could you please _not_?”  


The girl ignored him, and went back to her masterpiece of blobs and wiggles. Kylo started tidying things up, but then they went flying again. He put them back, thinking maybe if he didn’t react openly with annoyance, it would get old.

Nope. Over, and over, and over. He gave up tidying, and then sat down, and tried to keep the child (or himself) from ending her life. 

“Big dose,” she said, still drawing.  


“What?”  


“You big dose. Funny.”  


“I’m glad you find my facial structures amusing, even though you can’t see them.”  


“See you under hat. Big dose. Silly hair.”  


“My hair is not silly.”  


“Fwoop, fwoop.”  


“Shut up.”  


“NO!”  


He was arguing with a baby. What had his life come to? A _baby_. Hardly the debate of the century. The baby couldn’t even wipe its own bottom, yet. Why was he even worried what it thought? He wasn’t. Nope.

“I drewed you,” the she-thing said, and flicked up the holo-projection.   


“My hair isn’t blond.”  


“Is too.”  


“It isn’t.”  


“IS. TOO. CARROT.”  


“…that’s General Hux.”  


“YOU TOO.”  


“Fine. It’s me, too.”  


She giggled, and then there was a smashing noise, and Kylo screamed and went to look to see what she’d done. He only turned his back on her for thirty seconds, and when he turned around again? He couldn’t see her.

“DAMNIT, YOU HORRID THING, WHERE ARE YOU?”  


***

Captain Phasma opened the door cautiously. Inside, Kylo Ren was levitating the child above him. He was lying on the floor, and he looked at her despairingly. “Save me,” he begged.

“…I think you’re handling this matter perfectly well, Lord Ren?”  


“She won’t go to sleep.”  


“…and you thought I could help with this, how?”  


“You look after all the troopers, don’t you?”  


“She’s a little short to be–”  


“ _Please_ ,” he begged.  


“Is this because I’m female, Lord Ren?”  


“No. I literally don’t know anyone else’s name.” He’d never needed to. 

Phasma tilted her head at the floating child. “Have you tried teaching her how to do things?”

“Like what, clean a blaster?” Kylo snapped.  


“…I meant make a bed, but the blaster could work if you–”  


“We’re not teaching her how to clean a blaster!”  


Phasma shrugged. She poked at the child with one, gloved hand. The girl spun slowly around, giggling, and then reached her hands out. “Shiny!”

“…I think I should leave, my Lord.”  


“Traitor,” Kylo said, even as she made an exit backwards.  


***

By the time Hux and the family returned, Kylo was resigned to letting the girl sit on his lap and play with his mask and cloak. She kept listing animals for him to impersonate, and it meant she didn’t bite things or break things, so he made the noises she demanded. All of them. 

He was just so exhausted. 

“I see she likes you,” the father said, holding his hands out for his daughter.  


“Mistah Wen funny,” the girl agreed, and bounced into his arms. “I like him.”  


“Normally she doesn’t settle for people,” the mother told him. “We might have to ask for you next time, instead of our regular nanny.”  


“…” Kylo didn’t know how you politely told someone to go deep-throat a lightsaber in front of their child.   


“Well, I think Lord Ren has earned some rest, don’t you?” Hux said, guiding the two parents slowly out.  


“BYE WEN!”  


“…goodbye,” he muttered. He waited for them to leave, and then sat back on the couch and sighed.  


“…so…” Hux started, running a finger over a smudgey print on Kylo’s helmet. “We’re going to hold off on filing for adoption, then?”  


“I’d sooner adopt a Rancor. Or a Rathtar. Or… anything,” Kylo grumbled.  


“Very well. Although it seems you were better with her than even I thought. I know you can be quite childish yourself at times…”  


Kylo growled.

“Case in point. But you’ve impressed me. So… now it’s time for me to impress you…”  


“Can I take a rain check?” Kylo asked.   


“…of course.”  


If Hux was disappointed, it didn’t really show. More surprise, if anything else. The General unclasped his mask, and put it to one side. “But I’m still going to kiss you.”

That, he thought, was an acceptable compromise. And he was so going to keep this favour owed for as long as possible. 


End file.
